All my love from Jozi,
Cristina
Friday, July 29, 2011
Sorry all!
Internet has been hard to come by, so I've been kind of off the grid but working hard! I have interviews planned for this weekend, had a great time yesterday in particular, I attended a GALA forum where we talked about everything from relationships to deal breakers to dating and I had a blast and met some AMAZING people (love my queer South African friends!). After the forum I interviewed the amazing Zee and she read me some of my work--I'm so inspired and have been working (researching and taking notes) and writing up a storm in my off time both thesis wise and even poetry wise. I am so moved and touched by the poets I've met, their words, their wishes and wants for their work-- I'm in awe of them. I then got a drink with Mantis and friends and of course to make you all proud and not out of character I talked about feminism and teaching and why I love what I do as a scholar, teacher, activist and poet. I love it here, I want to move here and live for awhile. I will do whatever it takes to at least come back soon and for a year or so. This weekend is my last in Joburg and I'm already getting sad but there is so much to do before Tuesday that I just have to maintain focus. I feel all of your love and support even though I've been out of touch. I'll try and update soon :)
All my love from Jozi,
Cristina
All my love from Jozi,
Cristina
Monday, July 25, 2011
An eventful and wonderful weekend in Jozi
So much to say and very little energy to tell all so I'll just give a brief bullet-ed update:
-Had my first interview although I'm not sure if the participant can be included (out of the age range)
-Was reunited with my amazing friends Denise and Anzio!
-Went to the most amazing event, a She Speaks meeting where I met many poets, heard what their organization meant to them and some of their work!
-Am getting ready to spend the week in Jozi to interview as many of the She Speaks girls as I can as well as a possible 6 other poets!
I'll give more thorough updates later about these experiences, I need to rest for a bit first :)
-Had my first interview although I'm not sure if the participant can be included (out of the age range)
-Was reunited with my amazing friends Denise and Anzio!
-Went to the most amazing event, a She Speaks meeting where I met many poets, heard what their organization meant to them and some of their work!
-Am getting ready to spend the week in Jozi to interview as many of the She Speaks girls as I can as well as a possible 6 other poets!
I'll give more thorough updates later about these experiences, I need to rest for a bit first :)
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
I'm so very excited, the ball is rolling!
This is a message I received this morning from one of the poets I contacted:
Hi there.
Thank you for reaching out. Interesting that you would pick up on poetry from such a small community in such a far away place...
A group of us come together monthly for a session where we share our poetry, on issues that affect us directly and indirectly. I have been asked to extend an invite to you to come and join our She Speaks session this Friday (22 July) at Willow Glen Complex at the corner of Garden Street and First Avenue, Bordeaux at 7pm.
It would be awesome to open this session up to you...
I am so very honored and delighted about meeting these poets and hearing their work...I can't believe this is happening, I'm a very lucky little feminist :)
Love you all,
Cristina
Hi there.
Thank you for reaching out. Interesting that you would pick up on poetry from such a small community in such a far away place...
A group of us come together monthly for a session where we share our poetry, on issues that affect us directly and indirectly. I have been asked to extend an invite to you to come and join our She Speaks session this Friday (22 July) at Willow Glen Complex at the corner of Garden Street and First Avenue, Bordeaux at 7pm.
It would be awesome to open this session up to you...
I am so very honored and delighted about meeting these poets and hearing their work...I can't believe this is happening, I'm a very lucky little feminist :)
Love you all,
Cristina
Sunday, July 17, 2011
A day in the park in Pretoria
Today I got out, once I finally figured out how to lock the pedestrian gate, part of the larger gate in the front of Cathy's home. I arrived at Jan Cillier's Park in Pretoria after wandering around the neighborhood, having to ask a beautiful black South African woman dressed in a pink skirt suit (probably coming from Church since it is Sunday here) where the park was. At first I think she had a hard time understanding my English under what I imagine might be a weird American accent, she said she didn't know and then after a moment as I was continuing to walk she said "oh the park, the park is that way (back the way I came from), just keep going straight and it will be on the left" I thanked her and laughed because I must just look like a fool since the neighborhood isn't that big and the park is so close to everything.
I walked back past a large church with its sign in Afrikaans where a black South African man lay in the shade resting by the closed gate of the church. When I went passed him I said hello and asked if I was heading in the right direction for the park and he said yes. He then asked if I was smoking and I said no, I didn't smoke, realizing he was wanting to bum a cigarette I apologized and he said it was OK. "Are you going to the park to rest?" he asked me, and I replied, "Yes, kind of" since I was really just going to read and take notes. He said, "Well I might come later to rest with you if you don't mind" and I said "of course not" although in the hours I was there he never showed, his shaded area was probably comfortable enough.
After walking a block more I saw some white couples walking down the street walking in the same direction with young kids and a dog. Since where they were walking had a sidewalk I walked down the block to follow them since I was still unsure of my ability to follow even the simple directions given to me. I passed another black South African man, smiled and said hello, he seemed surprised and maybe that was because the family that had just passed him didn't say anything--maybe people don't greet strangers here when they pass them (wow look at the impact of the South on me now).
With the exception of that woman I passed the two men seemed to be coming from doing outdoor work, which led me to wonder if they were people's house staff? It felt that way but I can't be sure and do not want to jump to any conclusions. I wondered if many house staffers were from other African countries, living with they away from their families and alone staying in apartments connected to these rich white homes like Kojo (Cathy's house staff) or if they were from the Townships and traveled here to work. I know this is the norm here but it is really uncomfortable for me, I said this to the girl who I was sitting next to on the plane on the way here, to which she replied "Well it is nice for us because we don't have to cook or clean"-- I was taken a back, I mean, I know it is the same thing in the U.S. just not as mainstreamed into the middle class but it is just unsettling across the board to hear people talk like that and see them so accustomed to this class divide and the racial implications of it.
I finally got to the park and saw several black South African women sitting together at the edge of the park, speaking in a language other than Afrikaans which was a pleasure to hear (Afrikaans is very rough on the ears--German and Dutch sounding, that's what most white people speak in Pretoria, that and English which is kind of the bridging language amongst the groups here it seems). Towards the center of the park was a white man sitting on his own smoking, a large Afrikaans family was sitting not far from him together in a circle on lawn chairs and playing some kind of game. There was also a young white couple with their three young blond children, two girls and a boy, and small Yorky near the trees and bench where I choose to sit. The father to my surprise was playing soccer with his younger daughter (girls do not really play soccer here), encouraging her which made me think of playing soccer as a little girl with my dad. The mother stood with the dog watching her eldest daughter climb a tree which she called her fairy house (oh gender roles--hopefully she owned her own home as a fairy and was single and fabulous of in an egalitarian relationship with another fairy and maybe not even of the same gender-- I know I can only hope!).
I wish there were more dogs there, but there was one pointer looking redish-tan dog trotting about, visiting all of the parks inhabitants, driving the yorkey crazy which luck would have it was with the dad now, on its leash, on the blanket with the kids. The pointer dog seemed to belong to the Afrikaans family although they didn't seem to care that it was wondering about. A couple sat not far from where I was sitting, lovey dovey out of control--of course they have to be near me, it is my punishment for being single, that or I just never noticed it when I was in a relationship (maybe a little of both). Several other couples are scattered about, less young and consumed by one another, off in the shade of the other parts of the park relaxing. A coloured family (still weird to say although that is how people self identify here) walks onto the park bringing a bat and a Frisbee. Two young white children are riding bikes on the grass where the ground will break their fall better than the street (plus I didn't really see many sidewalks let alone bike lanes). A lazy Sunday, a family Sunday, after people watching a little more I settled into Defiant Desire, took notes have in the sun and the shade and got lost in the prospects of my current and future projects.
I took pictures of the neighborhood and put them on Facebook to give you all a better idea of what I was talking about with the houses and the neighborhood. I will try to pick out ones that are indicative of what I have talked about to post under here as well. I don't know if I mentioned but many of the plants here are like San Diego so it is a bit weird for me since that doesn't really let me feel transported to a different country and continent. Nevertheless, it felt good to be outside and to see other people even while I wasn't directly interacting with them, to hear the foreign and accented familiar languages present on the same plot, to see different families and people being in a place together even if they weren't together or even interacting. Wandering around the neighborhood, albeit a limited baby step into my trip made being here more real. I am just trying to soak it all in, even predominantly white, upper class, suburbia--everything is an experience right? I can't see myself living in Pretoria, but today I got to actually be outside, on my own, in South Africa and that felt good.
I walked back past a large church with its sign in Afrikaans where a black South African man lay in the shade resting by the closed gate of the church. When I went passed him I said hello and asked if I was heading in the right direction for the park and he said yes. He then asked if I was smoking and I said no, I didn't smoke, realizing he was wanting to bum a cigarette I apologized and he said it was OK. "Are you going to the park to rest?" he asked me, and I replied, "Yes, kind of" since I was really just going to read and take notes. He said, "Well I might come later to rest with you if you don't mind" and I said "of course not" although in the hours I was there he never showed, his shaded area was probably comfortable enough.
After walking a block more I saw some white couples walking down the street walking in the same direction with young kids and a dog. Since where they were walking had a sidewalk I walked down the block to follow them since I was still unsure of my ability to follow even the simple directions given to me. I passed another black South African man, smiled and said hello, he seemed surprised and maybe that was because the family that had just passed him didn't say anything--maybe people don't greet strangers here when they pass them (wow look at the impact of the South on me now).
With the exception of that woman I passed the two men seemed to be coming from doing outdoor work, which led me to wonder if they were people's house staff? It felt that way but I can't be sure and do not want to jump to any conclusions. I wondered if many house staffers were from other African countries, living with they away from their families and alone staying in apartments connected to these rich white homes like Kojo (Cathy's house staff) or if they were from the Townships and traveled here to work. I know this is the norm here but it is really uncomfortable for me, I said this to the girl who I was sitting next to on the plane on the way here, to which she replied "Well it is nice for us because we don't have to cook or clean"-- I was taken a back, I mean, I know it is the same thing in the U.S. just not as mainstreamed into the middle class but it is just unsettling across the board to hear people talk like that and see them so accustomed to this class divide and the racial implications of it.
I finally got to the park and saw several black South African women sitting together at the edge of the park, speaking in a language other than Afrikaans which was a pleasure to hear (Afrikaans is very rough on the ears--German and Dutch sounding, that's what most white people speak in Pretoria, that and English which is kind of the bridging language amongst the groups here it seems). Towards the center of the park was a white man sitting on his own smoking, a large Afrikaans family was sitting not far from him together in a circle on lawn chairs and playing some kind of game. There was also a young white couple with their three young blond children, two girls and a boy, and small Yorky near the trees and bench where I choose to sit. The father to my surprise was playing soccer with his younger daughter (girls do not really play soccer here), encouraging her which made me think of playing soccer as a little girl with my dad. The mother stood with the dog watching her eldest daughter climb a tree which she called her fairy house (oh gender roles--hopefully she owned her own home as a fairy and was single and fabulous of in an egalitarian relationship with another fairy and maybe not even of the same gender-- I know I can only hope!).
I wish there were more dogs there, but there was one pointer looking redish-tan dog trotting about, visiting all of the parks inhabitants, driving the yorkey crazy which luck would have it was with the dad now, on its leash, on the blanket with the kids. The pointer dog seemed to belong to the Afrikaans family although they didn't seem to care that it was wondering about. A couple sat not far from where I was sitting, lovey dovey out of control--of course they have to be near me, it is my punishment for being single, that or I just never noticed it when I was in a relationship (maybe a little of both). Several other couples are scattered about, less young and consumed by one another, off in the shade of the other parts of the park relaxing. A coloured family (still weird to say although that is how people self identify here) walks onto the park bringing a bat and a Frisbee. Two young white children are riding bikes on the grass where the ground will break their fall better than the street (plus I didn't really see many sidewalks let alone bike lanes). A lazy Sunday, a family Sunday, after people watching a little more I settled into Defiant Desire, took notes have in the sun and the shade and got lost in the prospects of my current and future projects.
I took pictures of the neighborhood and put them on Facebook to give you all a better idea of what I was talking about with the houses and the neighborhood. I will try to pick out ones that are indicative of what I have talked about to post under here as well. I don't know if I mentioned but many of the plants here are like San Diego so it is a bit weird for me since that doesn't really let me feel transported to a different country and continent. Nevertheless, it felt good to be outside and to see other people even while I wasn't directly interacting with them, to hear the foreign and accented familiar languages present on the same plot, to see different families and people being in a place together even if they weren't together or even interacting. Wandering around the neighborhood, albeit a limited baby step into my trip made being here more real. I am just trying to soak it all in, even predominantly white, upper class, suburbia--everything is an experience right? I can't see myself living in Pretoria, but today I got to actually be outside, on my own, in South Africa and that felt good.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
First day: Logistics and some viewing of Pretoria
I woke up this morning, first at 5:56am to nightmares per usual, then went back to bed for what I thought would only be a couple more hours and woke up at noon. After being pretty frustrated at my body for not getting on time as I wanted, I spent the half of my day that was left contacting all of the interviewees that I had already confirmed to let them know I was here and hoping to meet with them soon. I also spoke with my friends and revisited past communication, making first contact with some queer South African poets recently recommended to me. I'm hoping to have at least 10 participants and that is seeming more and more like it could actually happen. My friends here have been helpful beyond belief thinking of everyone and asking around for queer poets, I really don't know what I would do without them!
Cathy, after coming back from her work lunch took me out and about while it was still daylight to see Pretoria. It is so weird to be here, imagine California suburbs with huge prison like walls around them, electric fences on top and gates, many of the complexes look more like compounds, some even have guards according to Cathy. She told me that it took her quiet awhile to get used to living in a place like this and that people had told her about experiences of home invasions and still speak of it although she hadn't heard of one in awhile. As we were driving however she said that in certain intersections 'smash and grabs' as the locals call them, where people break into car windows to steal things out of cars, are on the rise. It seems when times get hard this is what happens everywhere. I told her that at home, just before I left that a friend of mine found out that someone had stolen all of her mother's porch furniture stolen one night off of her parents porch while they were home. I think it will only get worse in the US with the economy the way it is and although crime is scary I just think of the desperation most people committing these kinds of thefts must feel in order to resort to what they are resorting to in order to provide for their families. Cathy mentioned that she feels much the same way and that her colleagues speak frequently about how living where they live, in a place removed from the reality of the Townships, obscures the reality and can at times impede their efforts to truly understand and keep in the forefront of their minds the difficulties South Africans living in the Townships face.
Even though we drove past homes like this when I visited last, it is different staying in one and seeing so many homes around you be the same way. How can these people feel safe when they are even so isolated from each other? How much of this is genuine fear and class and race based prejudice for Cathy's neighbors? There are beautiful parks dispersed around these cement wall homes, but Cathy says many people only go to the during the day. We might not have walls around the homes in wealthy U.S. neighborhoods, but it is mostly because we make sure our poor and our rich live in different neighborhoods, and having been in some wealthy U.S. neighborhoods the walls are there, maybe not physically but socially they absolutely are. We continued driving, past the mall that was near by, some shopping centers where a WoolWorth's was, you would swear we were in California with the exception of the side of the road we were driving on and the names of the places. We drove around a bit more before we went to the top of a hill behind Cathy's neighborhood to view all of Pretoria. The hills in the background were beautiful, and the sun was setting, the suburban metropolis looked much prettier like this, spread out, as if it was more together than when we were driving around. Although some of the plants were not in bloom you could tell they were incredible when they were partly because of how alive they still are in winter, much like San Diego. Cathy pointed out the trees that bear lavender blossoms in the spring, and even though they were green their dark, twisted limbs were strong, outstretched and beautiful. The plants here remind me a lot of San Diego, they seem to be out of a surrealist painting, and it seemed that these plants in Pretoria are what keeps the cold walls predominantly white wealth from closing in on us and everyone else who lives and works here I suppose. Watching some people in one of the parks playing with their dogs and a black South African couple sitting lovingly together on a blanket gave the area a little more life even in winter, even in predominantly white suburbia.
Cathy then took me to a small chain cafe here in one of the shopping centers, Cafe 41, where a more diverse group of people sat, conversed, ate and drank wine. I had a salad and she a snack while we drank South African Pinotage, we talked about politics, family, relationships, feminism more in depth than the night before. It is so funny to me how you can barely know someone and yet, just by being open and warm, having perspectives and interests in common you become a kind of family to each other on another continent, in another place in the world. We laughed and shared stories until the wine was finished and we both were hungry for more than our snacks and interested more in being in comfy clothes inside watching Parks and Recreation (which I just introduced to Cathy and she loves it). We went back and she cooked some Paella for us (I feel completely spoiled! and this dish made me feel even more at home), we each had a glass of South African Port (a first for me). After watching a two episodes Cathy went off to bed and left me with a glass of Mocha Kahlua to keep me company and try to get me sleepy while I finished contacting some of my friends here to make plans for going to Joburg this week, hopefully Monday to get some interviews underway.
Tomorrow Cathy's husband Tim gets back from Angola and Cathy mentioned that she and I, and maybe Tim, might go to a market similar to a Farmer's Market in the area and maybe even a craft market. This time I will remember to take my camera and my left over rand from my last trip with me to get some pictures and maybe some gifts for others (I was so use to having my phone in my purse that I forgot that my phone is useless here when we went around this evening). I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I hear back from participants in mass and make moves on planning the week out with lots of interviews and meetings not to mention just general Joburg travel and visit to the GALA archives (Gay and Lesbian Memory in Action archives here in South Africa) to do some more research.
Well, as you can see I'm either still messed up time wise or just my usual insomniac self. Good night all, thank you for keeping tabs on me and for continuing to send well wishes via email, Facebook, etc. I hope we can Skype or Ichat soon (I have wifi here at Cathy's so just tell me when is good for you I'm 9 hours ahead of the West Coast and 6 hours ahead of the East Coast). I love you all very much, thank you for all of the support!
Cathy, after coming back from her work lunch took me out and about while it was still daylight to see Pretoria. It is so weird to be here, imagine California suburbs with huge prison like walls around them, electric fences on top and gates, many of the complexes look more like compounds, some even have guards according to Cathy. She told me that it took her quiet awhile to get used to living in a place like this and that people had told her about experiences of home invasions and still speak of it although she hadn't heard of one in awhile. As we were driving however she said that in certain intersections 'smash and grabs' as the locals call them, where people break into car windows to steal things out of cars, are on the rise. It seems when times get hard this is what happens everywhere. I told her that at home, just before I left that a friend of mine found out that someone had stolen all of her mother's porch furniture stolen one night off of her parents porch while they were home. I think it will only get worse in the US with the economy the way it is and although crime is scary I just think of the desperation most people committing these kinds of thefts must feel in order to resort to what they are resorting to in order to provide for their families. Cathy mentioned that she feels much the same way and that her colleagues speak frequently about how living where they live, in a place removed from the reality of the Townships, obscures the reality and can at times impede their efforts to truly understand and keep in the forefront of their minds the difficulties South Africans living in the Townships face.
Even though we drove past homes like this when I visited last, it is different staying in one and seeing so many homes around you be the same way. How can these people feel safe when they are even so isolated from each other? How much of this is genuine fear and class and race based prejudice for Cathy's neighbors? There are beautiful parks dispersed around these cement wall homes, but Cathy says many people only go to the during the day. We might not have walls around the homes in wealthy U.S. neighborhoods, but it is mostly because we make sure our poor and our rich live in different neighborhoods, and having been in some wealthy U.S. neighborhoods the walls are there, maybe not physically but socially they absolutely are. We continued driving, past the mall that was near by, some shopping centers where a WoolWorth's was, you would swear we were in California with the exception of the side of the road we were driving on and the names of the places. We drove around a bit more before we went to the top of a hill behind Cathy's neighborhood to view all of Pretoria. The hills in the background were beautiful, and the sun was setting, the suburban metropolis looked much prettier like this, spread out, as if it was more together than when we were driving around. Although some of the plants were not in bloom you could tell they were incredible when they were partly because of how alive they still are in winter, much like San Diego. Cathy pointed out the trees that bear lavender blossoms in the spring, and even though they were green their dark, twisted limbs were strong, outstretched and beautiful. The plants here remind me a lot of San Diego, they seem to be out of a surrealist painting, and it seemed that these plants in Pretoria are what keeps the cold walls predominantly white wealth from closing in on us and everyone else who lives and works here I suppose. Watching some people in one of the parks playing with their dogs and a black South African couple sitting lovingly together on a blanket gave the area a little more life even in winter, even in predominantly white suburbia.
Cathy then took me to a small chain cafe here in one of the shopping centers, Cafe 41, where a more diverse group of people sat, conversed, ate and drank wine. I had a salad and she a snack while we drank South African Pinotage, we talked about politics, family, relationships, feminism more in depth than the night before. It is so funny to me how you can barely know someone and yet, just by being open and warm, having perspectives and interests in common you become a kind of family to each other on another continent, in another place in the world. We laughed and shared stories until the wine was finished and we both were hungry for more than our snacks and interested more in being in comfy clothes inside watching Parks and Recreation (which I just introduced to Cathy and she loves it). We went back and she cooked some Paella for us (I feel completely spoiled! and this dish made me feel even more at home), we each had a glass of South African Port (a first for me). After watching a two episodes Cathy went off to bed and left me with a glass of Mocha Kahlua to keep me company and try to get me sleepy while I finished contacting some of my friends here to make plans for going to Joburg this week, hopefully Monday to get some interviews underway.
Tomorrow Cathy's husband Tim gets back from Angola and Cathy mentioned that she and I, and maybe Tim, might go to a market similar to a Farmer's Market in the area and maybe even a craft market. This time I will remember to take my camera and my left over rand from my last trip with me to get some pictures and maybe some gifts for others (I was so use to having my phone in my purse that I forgot that my phone is useless here when we went around this evening). I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I hear back from participants in mass and make moves on planning the week out with lots of interviews and meetings not to mention just general Joburg travel and visit to the GALA archives (Gay and Lesbian Memory in Action archives here in South Africa) to do some more research.
Well, as you can see I'm either still messed up time wise or just my usual insomniac self. Good night all, thank you for keeping tabs on me and for continuing to send well wishes via email, Facebook, etc. I hope we can Skype or Ichat soon (I have wifi here at Cathy's so just tell me when is good for you I'm 9 hours ahead of the West Coast and 6 hours ahead of the East Coast). I love you all very much, thank you for all of the support!
Friday, July 15, 2011
I'm here!
I'm here in South Africa, after two very long flights, some delays and total time zone confusion. Right now I'm safely in Cathy's home in Pretoria and she couldn't be a more warm and welcoming host, I absolutely adore her! It was strange to be on a flight that long by myself but I slept most of the second leg after Dakar. I was thankful just to have been on the flight considering that we ended up on a different plane than we were supposed to (smaller and no TVs) so some people got kicked off the flight and won't leave Dulles until next week (thank the Lorde that wasn't me). I can't wait to see the daylight despite feeling tired. I just know daylight will make it more real although riding with Johann to Cathy's place on the wrong side of the road sitting in what would've been the driver seat at home should have made it more real for me.
I can't wait to see my friends again and be with them, to hear all about what they have been doing. Most importantly I am so excited to begin my project, researching up a storm, writing and most importantly meeting the poets, reading their work, conducting interviews with them etc. It is a little cold here but just like San Diego winter so it isn't too bad (Cathy and Johann disagree). I still am so overwhelmed with appreciation for this even happening, all of the support and help, how gracious people are and have been is just so moving and humbling.
As you can probably tell I'm pretty tired-- Cathy and I spent a lot of time talking about teaching, my students and their amazing projects (yes I talk about you all--ALL OF THE TIME and brag on you), and the work I'm getting ready to do as well as my plans for the future. We also talked about television shows, Internet dating, and all of that other good-personal-fun-stuff that comes up along the way (that's why I love Women's Studies). Well, I am sure I will have much more to tell you all as the trip goes on. Thanks to those of you who have already sent your love and support via Facebook, email, etc, it means a lot, I will do my best to make you all proud!
Goodnight :)
Cristina
I can't wait to see my friends again and be with them, to hear all about what they have been doing. Most importantly I am so excited to begin my project, researching up a storm, writing and most importantly meeting the poets, reading their work, conducting interviews with them etc. It is a little cold here but just like San Diego winter so it isn't too bad (Cathy and Johann disagree). I still am so overwhelmed with appreciation for this even happening, all of the support and help, how gracious people are and have been is just so moving and humbling.
As you can probably tell I'm pretty tired-- Cathy and I spent a lot of time talking about teaching, my students and their amazing projects (yes I talk about you all--ALL OF THE TIME and brag on you), and the work I'm getting ready to do as well as my plans for the future. We also talked about television shows, Internet dating, and all of that other good-personal-fun-stuff that comes up along the way (that's why I love Women's Studies). Well, I am sure I will have much more to tell you all as the trip goes on. Thanks to those of you who have already sent your love and support via Facebook, email, etc, it means a lot, I will do my best to make you all proud!
Goodnight :)
Cristina
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Intro to this blog/ the night before it all begins
This is the beginning! I'm starting this in my fabulous feminist friend Arielle's apartment in DC (I'm so sad you aren't here girl but you are the BEST for letting me stay). I have spent from Sunday until tonight here in DC, staying with an old friend, Smargoil, (thanks for taking care of me and I'm glad I got to see you). On Tuesday I was honored and privileged to meet with Chloe Schwenke of USAID (thank you for taking time out of your incredibly inspiring and internationally changing schedule to meet with me). In sum, I LOVED spending so many days and nights here, despite the heat and humidity--yes, I'm so spoiled by SD--thank the Lorde. DC has been and continues to be a city where I receive love and inspiration in short but sweet growth spurts.
For any of you who by chance are reading this and for some reason don't know, I am embarking upon what I believe will be the most significant academic and activist work of my life. I am preparing to travel to South Africa for a second time, this time alone, to interview queer poets and explore the content of their poetry for my master's thesis. I not only hope to learn about these poets, their backgrounds and their motivations for writing, but also look forward to becoming more informed on what I believe to be the deeply personal as well as political work they are engaging in by writing poetry.
I won't take up too much time here saying it, but I have to at least mention the immense gratitude I feel. I can't explain how indebted I am to all of those who made this possible and inspired me to do this as well as all of those who have/are supporting me financially, logistically as well as intellectually and emotionally--you know who you are, and if I haven't already thanked you, which I'm sure I have, but if I haven't, you know you'll hear it a million times over while I'm there and when I return. When I can return the favor, believe me, I will.
This blog is my first albeit small attempt to give a gift to some of you, my hope being that by sharing this adventure with you all, the ones that I love, and whoever else, you will be inspired in the journeys you are having, plan to have, or may want to plan. May this gift of my sharing my journey be as special to you as I expect this journey and your support along the way will be to me.
So, here I am, the night before I leave the country for 35 days, and as cliche as it sounds it hasn't hit me. I know it really won't hit me until I'm there, that's what happened last time and that was a short trip with a huge group. I can feel my father in me freaking out, going over and over everything that I should have and need to have, making sure it is packed, preparing mentally for all of the airport logistical hoop jumping traveling requires. But, I also feel a weird calm, a cool and quiet on the surface, and the contradiction makes me smirk. I feel like the grown up version of my mom's "little traveler" as she called me, as soon as I got over my childhood fear of planes.
Pre-little traveler era was a time where, dramatic as I was and unfortunately at times still can be (although I've made A LOT of progress), I insisted that planes smelt weird, holding an overly perfumed handkerchief over my face to prevent the inevitable "headaches" and "nausea" that resulted from the smell--in my defense this fear came about as a result of getting very air sick at the end of a flight home from Spain (mostly because of an extended wait to land and the fact that the NJ Devils won the Stanley Cup). Not only did I hold this hanky over my face, I refused not only to sit by the window but insisted the blind remained closed during the entire flight. I would not eat, was determined to sleep the whole time and if by some weird chance I remained conscious past take off resisted thinking positively about the flight to the point where I not only vocalized my discomfort but my mistrust (I may on one occasion have made scary remarks to others).
As a result of living on the opposite coast from family and friends as well as taking part in more traveling and bi-coastal activism and academic work, airports have become a mecca for me now, the place that signals movement for me physically, intellectually and spiritually. At my little beach duplex home in OB where the planes fly so low and loudly they interrupt phone/skype/ichat conversations, movies, TV, music, and anywhere that I hear or see planes overhead I now long to be on them.
When I am lucky enough to travel, I can go through airport security faster than anyone almost competing with the flight attendants and pilots (watch out businessmen and women). The repetitive announcements, security warnings, too expensive airport dinners, safety information, too small seats, terrible magazines, drinks, pretzels, on flight "snacks" and wine, talking and at times lecturing strangers beside me, watching first timers of all ages, unaccompanied minors saying goodbye to their parents, departure drop offs by loved ones, and teary arrival welcomings, are so near and dear to me they feel like lullaby meets soundtrack. Don't get me wrong, I still think planes smell weird, but the way it combines with the coffee aroma at least makes it more pleasant.
This is what I love. Traveling. Movement. Change. Being in the air and realizing how small I really am while at the same time feeling like through movement, through the awareness and recognition of my place however small it might be, gives me the rush of knowing that I can collide, combine and collaborate with something bigger than myself is up to this point in my life unparalleled. Now more than ever, facing the greatest travel journey of my life thus far, I carry inside me an excitement and passion that threatens to double me over at times, but in the face of this I carry it with a strong and strange composure (as composed as someone as bursting with the potential of all of this can be).
I fell in love with South Africa in the spring, and transformative as it was, it was a short and protected taste. I know this time will be different and maybe disappointing as I will be sure to hear and in some limited ways bear witness to the sad reality of the fight my queer activist friends and queer poet interviewees are facing, but all the same I welcome it. This is the first time I will be out of the country completely on my own, and on a content where I found a new part of myself that I am only beginning to step into.
I don't care that it is winter there (which is San Diegoesque winter by the way), I don't care that things might change, or be challenging, or that I will face barriers in contacting and meeting those I've already contacted and confirmed with. I'm open, aware and awake (I will sleep tomorrow on the plane... I hope). Every bit of me is vibrating. I feel restless and as though the blood in my veins is electric . All of me is pulsing for this, even the extreme quiet in my ears, a quiet that aches and ears that want to ring with the voices of the queer poets I will interview, to expand with their stories, their intentions and the content of their creations. This is what I have been waiting and longing for and it is finally here. Here I come South Africa, I know you are ready, and so am I.
For any of you who by chance are reading this and for some reason don't know, I am embarking upon what I believe will be the most significant academic and activist work of my life. I am preparing to travel to South Africa for a second time, this time alone, to interview queer poets and explore the content of their poetry for my master's thesis. I not only hope to learn about these poets, their backgrounds and their motivations for writing, but also look forward to becoming more informed on what I believe to be the deeply personal as well as political work they are engaging in by writing poetry.
I won't take up too much time here saying it, but I have to at least mention the immense gratitude I feel. I can't explain how indebted I am to all of those who made this possible and inspired me to do this as well as all of those who have/are supporting me financially, logistically as well as intellectually and emotionally--you know who you are, and if I haven't already thanked you, which I'm sure I have, but if I haven't, you know you'll hear it a million times over while I'm there and when I return. When I can return the favor, believe me, I will.
This blog is my first albeit small attempt to give a gift to some of you, my hope being that by sharing this adventure with you all, the ones that I love, and whoever else, you will be inspired in the journeys you are having, plan to have, or may want to plan. May this gift of my sharing my journey be as special to you as I expect this journey and your support along the way will be to me.
So, here I am, the night before I leave the country for 35 days, and as cliche as it sounds it hasn't hit me. I know it really won't hit me until I'm there, that's what happened last time and that was a short trip with a huge group. I can feel my father in me freaking out, going over and over everything that I should have and need to have, making sure it is packed, preparing mentally for all of the airport logistical hoop jumping traveling requires. But, I also feel a weird calm, a cool and quiet on the surface, and the contradiction makes me smirk. I feel like the grown up version of my mom's "little traveler" as she called me, as soon as I got over my childhood fear of planes.
Pre-little traveler era was a time where, dramatic as I was and unfortunately at times still can be (although I've made A LOT of progress), I insisted that planes smelt weird, holding an overly perfumed handkerchief over my face to prevent the inevitable "headaches" and "nausea" that resulted from the smell--in my defense this fear came about as a result of getting very air sick at the end of a flight home from Spain (mostly because of an extended wait to land and the fact that the NJ Devils won the Stanley Cup). Not only did I hold this hanky over my face, I refused not only to sit by the window but insisted the blind remained closed during the entire flight. I would not eat, was determined to sleep the whole time and if by some weird chance I remained conscious past take off resisted thinking positively about the flight to the point where I not only vocalized my discomfort but my mistrust (I may on one occasion have made scary remarks to others).
As a result of living on the opposite coast from family and friends as well as taking part in more traveling and bi-coastal activism and academic work, airports have become a mecca for me now, the place that signals movement for me physically, intellectually and spiritually. At my little beach duplex home in OB where the planes fly so low and loudly they interrupt phone/skype/ichat conversations, movies, TV, music, and anywhere that I hear or see planes overhead I now long to be on them.
When I am lucky enough to travel, I can go through airport security faster than anyone almost competing with the flight attendants and pilots (watch out businessmen and women). The repetitive announcements, security warnings, too expensive airport dinners, safety information, too small seats, terrible magazines, drinks, pretzels, on flight "snacks" and wine, talking and at times lecturing strangers beside me, watching first timers of all ages, unaccompanied minors saying goodbye to their parents, departure drop offs by loved ones, and teary arrival welcomings, are so near and dear to me they feel like lullaby meets soundtrack. Don't get me wrong, I still think planes smell weird, but the way it combines with the coffee aroma at least makes it more pleasant.
This is what I love. Traveling. Movement. Change. Being in the air and realizing how small I really am while at the same time feeling like through movement, through the awareness and recognition of my place however small it might be, gives me the rush of knowing that I can collide, combine and collaborate with something bigger than myself is up to this point in my life unparalleled. Now more than ever, facing the greatest travel journey of my life thus far, I carry inside me an excitement and passion that threatens to double me over at times, but in the face of this I carry it with a strong and strange composure (as composed as someone as bursting with the potential of all of this can be).
I fell in love with South Africa in the spring, and transformative as it was, it was a short and protected taste. I know this time will be different and maybe disappointing as I will be sure to hear and in some limited ways bear witness to the sad reality of the fight my queer activist friends and queer poet interviewees are facing, but all the same I welcome it. This is the first time I will be out of the country completely on my own, and on a content where I found a new part of myself that I am only beginning to step into.
I don't care that it is winter there (which is San Diegoesque winter by the way), I don't care that things might change, or be challenging, or that I will face barriers in contacting and meeting those I've already contacted and confirmed with. I'm open, aware and awake (I will sleep tomorrow on the plane... I hope). Every bit of me is vibrating. I feel restless and as though the blood in my veins is electric . All of me is pulsing for this, even the extreme quiet in my ears, a quiet that aches and ears that want to ring with the voices of the queer poets I will interview, to expand with their stories, their intentions and the content of their creations. This is what I have been waiting and longing for and it is finally here. Here I come South Africa, I know you are ready, and so am I.
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